Flowers in my living room
Now in full bloom,
Will be gone soon.
—
I spent a long time yesterday attempting to compose this poem, and ended up throwing away several drafts. Part of Friday evening had been spent with friends in a wine bar, which may or may not have impacted on my ability to get the above poem right.
I put my nose out the window
And smell the rain,
But quickly close it again
Why should I
shut out the rain
And sky?
For I
Know not when I shall die.
Walking home from the supermarket
I heard
A bird
And thought
I could not have bought
That in store.
This tree
In the churchyard
With it’s gnarled bark
Will outlast me.
This thought, to some stark
Comforts me
For my heart
Is part
Of this self-same tree.
I perceive
The flowers as I
Pass by.
Should I
Grieve
That they will die?
I paused and smelt
And felt
Their slim stem that I
Could so easily break.
I chose not to take
And did the blooms forsake
For I
Know that they shall die
This poem and others like it can be found in ‘The Writer’s Pen and other poems’, available here for the UK and here for the US.
The above pictures were taken in Spa Wood, SE19.
![IMG_9291[1]](https://kmorrispoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/img_92911.jpg?w=625)
Bluebells close-up
![IMG_9288[1]](https://kmorrispoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/img_92881-1.jpg?w=625)
Yellow flowers close-up
![IMG_9289[1]](https://kmorrispoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/img_92891.jpg?w=625)
Wild garlic close-up
![IMG_9287[1]](https://kmorrispoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/img_92871.jpg?w=625)
Blue flowers close-up
![IMG_9307[1]](https://kmorrispoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/img_93071.jpg?w=625)
White flowers close-up
Sitting in my living room
I hear the wind.
It will be gone soon,
And it’s blast
Will outlast
Thee and me.
On this windy day
In April
I can not say
Whether the flowers I pass
On this woodland path
Will stay
For another day.
I think
That they
Are the same as those
I saw before,
Although I can not say
For sure
Whether it be so.
I suppose
That both I and they
Will see the rain’s tears
In future years,
But this I can not say
For sure.
I have uploaded the following four poems to my Soundcloud.
The kiss of morn
Does come
As the waking sun
Does gently warm
The waiting lawn.
The dawn dew
Does soak through
Her summer dress,
That the rising sun
Does so softly warm
And with eagerness, caress.
On the empty
Woodland path
The birds sing,
But not for me
This spring.
As I pass
Along this desolate path
I laugh
At the idea
That the birds I hear
Could sing
For me in spring.
K Morris - Poet 